Happy Birthday, Haiti
By Hyppolite Pierre
It's not easy to say, I love you Haiti
When the days there are so long,
Filled with sadness,
Hunger,
Despair,
Suffering,
Hopelessness.
It's not easy to say, I love you Haiti,
When I am told as we are told,
That today,
Haiti is ugly,
Haiti is poor,
Haiti has no sons and daughters who like her.
It's not easy to say, I love you Haiti,
While barely a year before we celebrate
For the 200th time,
The one and only glorifying day in our history,
Our brothers, and sisters, and aunts, and uncles, and friends,
Are fighting a senseless fight.
A fight for power,
A fight for power,
A fight for power.
It's not easy to say, I love you Haiti,
When Timafi for the second night,
Is going to bed hungry,
When the mother of perhaps my half-half cousin,
Is crying once again,
Because she can't even buy
A boyo for her son's callous feet
On Christmas Day.
It's not easy for me to say, I love you Haiti,
When I see, walking down the streets of Poste Marchand in Port-au-Prince,
A naked man, alone and crazy because,
He was too hungry, and
He could not eat,
Could not smile,
Could not hope,
Could not think.
It's not easy for me to say, I love you Haiti,
When ten kilometers up the road of poverty,
I know as you do, as we all do,
That a man will be taking his ten year-old daughter,
To New-York for Christmas,
Hoping she'll see the snow, for the first time in her life.
It's not easy for me to say, Haiti, I love you,
When my brothers, and sisters, my uncles and aunts,
Could kill me still so young,
Because I dare say, things have to change.
Well if I don't say it,
If I don't say, Haiti I love you,
Please tell me who will dare?
Tell me if I don't fight,
With my pen and my mind,
For the country that gave me birth,
That gave me soul,
That gave me hope,
That makes me proud,
That made me a man,
Please tell me,
Please tell me if I don't say,
Haiti, I love you,
Who else will?
Yes there are!
Oh yes there are others who will say,
Haiti, I love you.
The rich who is ashamed of his wealth
Amidst such dire poverty,
The poor who knows that things will change
For they must,
The arrogant who wants to still say "Yes I am Haitian",
The student who wants nothing more than to live in his home, in her country,
Those who are too wise to not be crazy about Haiti.
For Haiti is yours,
Haiti is mine,
Haiti is ours,
Haiti is hope,
Haiti is where it all began,
Haiti is where man said to all, for the first time:
"Yes we are all humans, the same, the same".
Haiti is the land of God.
It's a gift that burns our hand.
We must blow out the fire,
So the sparks of love,
And pride,
And happiness can really shine,
In the hearts of us all.
Happy Birthday, Haiti.
